


KNIGHT: SEASON FOUR: The Citadel of Ricks

by WarioGirl



Series: KNIGHT Saga [1]
Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Dark, Erotica, F/M, Forced Relationship, Humor, Multi, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 17:21:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15514758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WarioGirl/pseuds/WarioGirl
Summary: Sallie Knight(KR-982) and her Super-Car, TORQUE, had traveled multiple Dimensions in search of her best friend, Rick Sanchez (KR-982), for 20+ years. When Rick disappeared suddenly from Earth (KR-972), she made it her personal mission to find him and get answers for his disappearance, and during those years, she develops and hardens into a firm fighter.After all of those years, she finally discovers the existence of Citadel of Ricks, a place where her Rick could possibly be in. But it won't be easy. She encounters many Ricks, some who are persistent in making her believe that they are her Rick. Deceit, heartbreak, trail and error, she makes friends along the way and discovers countless shocks, including the history of her own Dimensional-Selves with certain Ricks. This is going to be the hardest thing she will ever endure, but her iron determination for her friend's rescue pushes her own, even if it pains her greatly...





	KNIGHT: SEASON FOUR: The Citadel of Ricks

**Author's Note:**

> AUTHOR'S NOTES:-  
> Hey my lovely readers. I hope you're all doing well. 
> 
> I have been meaning to upload one of my many stories involving the Rick and Morty universe, but it's been a ballache to figure out what to start off with. But I have finally come to a conclusion with this. I'm going to be working my way backwards, or at least start at 'Season 4', since that one was the first plotting I had in mind when I first started. Plus, it's a little more intense right now.
> 
> Bear in mind, the original plotting, I admit, was a shameless smutty thing, just had nothing but sex, sex and more sex. I wrote it mostly for fun, and thought nothing much of it, and didn't intent on posting it. But now it had been revamped, and has an actual story line. (Still sex in it, but yeah!) so pardon the sex scenes, of course. I hope you enjoy this daft thing, and welcome to the adventure of Sallie Knight (KR-982). She has a lot of Ricks to smack up!
> 
> \--------------------------------------
> 
> Author: Wario-Girl  
> Co-Author: Kumatori
> 
> KNIGHT, Sallie Knight, TORQUE Mustang Harbinger and other dimensional Sallies (C) Wario-Girl  
> Rick and Morty and everything related to it (C) Dan Harmon and Justin Roiland

** KNIGHT **

** Season Four: The Citadel of Ricks **

** Episode 1: PRELUDE **

 

There was an unforgiving chill in Space, a cold nip that had crept in from the dusted, iced planets and settled into the bones of dying universes. An endless void of undefeated atmosphere, unmanned, untouched. No one dared to tamper with Space, for it was a forsaken land of impending and guaranteed death. It was the loneliest place ever known to any living creature, and many did not dare to attempt to control it. No one wanted to be there. It was a vast, empty land. A vacant highway for those who voyaged from planet to planet, but nothing more. It was a Sky-Road no one wanted to drive on.

The heavy, ponderous thrum of an engine reverberated through the hollowness of the Universe, a dull, soundless rumble through the atmosphere. Its source: A modified 1969 Trans-Am Ford Mustang. The Mustang Harbinger.

The Harbinger lumbered slowly across the Sky-Roads, its long, aggressively-styled body a dull smear of glossy-black in the faint fog of Space. What was once an abandoned Mustang back on Earth KR-982 had now developed over the course of twenty-five years, constantly improving itself. Now, the beastly machine had become a one of a kind, a machine capable of space-travel, adrenaline-fuelled races and Sky-Wars, all while maintaining its classic ominous look and its ultra-high performance. And if it’s performance and appearance was not impressive enough, it had another surprise: It  _thinks_.

His Inventor, Rick Sanchez KR-982, created Artificial Intelligence for the machine, to amuse the Mustang’s driver, his best friend. And now, from a plain, basic A.I, the Harbinger had evolved into something frighteningly close to human. He had grown to understand human emotion and their nature, has a data-bank brimming with information about all the unknown beings in the Dimensions, constantly learning, continually improving himself. And while he was his driver’s Mustang, he was also her best friend, her co-pilot, her companion. The Harbinger was a Super-Car, and his name was TORQUE.

And despite the deafening silence of Space, within the compartment of the Harbinger was full of life. The speakers were lively, playing a string of old songs from a remix tape. The modified curved panels displayed an array of mesmerising dashboard lights. The steering wheel had been replaced by a fat-handled device like a jet’s two-handed control-wheel. Readout screens and icons blinked and glittered as if in sync with the music’s energetic instrumental. Where the original dials had been were now replaced with a black glassine field alive with various-coloured neon digits and constantly fluctuating bar gauges. To the lower left and right of the wheel were inconspicuous control boxes with illuminated, heat-sensitive pushbuttons. On the curvature where the modified steering column sloped up to blend with the graceful flow of the dash was a screen, TORQUE’s Voice-Modulator, which had been altered into a computer-generated avatar of the Mustang, somewhat-cartoony with large blue eyes on the windshield and an animated mouth. Once again, another little treat from his creator. Below that were more function bars, each a different colour for different modes: AUTO PILOT, NORMAL CRUISE, PURSUIT-MODE, FLIGHT-MODE. To the right of the wheel was a pair of monitor screens mounted side-by-side. In the corner of one of the monitor was an old photo. Browned slightly with age, the image showed two people, smiling happily outside of the Heavy-Metal club,  _Stairways_. Both young, 25, dressed in black clothes and dark make-up, smiling brightly after another successful band-performance. The man, tall and skinny, his blue hair gelled back into place, revealing bright eyes and a dirty grin surrounded by stubble. Pulled into a hug with one arm was a woman, tiny in comparison to the male, her brunette hair tightly braided in long pig-tails and was clearly howling with laughter at the fact her friend had given the camera-man the middle-finger. A young Rick Sanchez and Sallie Knight. Back when life was simpler.

All systems were calm, there was no distress today.

A favourite, Kate Bush’s  _Rubberband Girl_  was currently playing, and TORQUE’S driver, his best friend, smiled.

Sallie Knight, 50, gave her Super-Car a reassuring nod, silently confirming that everything was all good. That she was  _okay_. TORQUE could tell, from the slight squint of her dark, tired eyes to him to the readings of his daily scans on her vital signs. Her blood pressure was surprisingly good, and her posture now relaxed. She even cranked up the volume of the stereo upon hearing the song, and while TORQUE would normally refuse her to do such a ridiculous thing, he dismissed it and just allowed her to  _enjoy_  herself.

Happily, she tapped her hands onto the leathery steering control-wheel to the beat, bobbing her head from side to side, and with all her heart was singing along.

“A Rubberband bouncing back to life, a Rubberband bend the beat, If I could learn to give like a rubberband, I’d be back on my feet!”

TORQUE could feel his processors smiling. He hasn’t heard her sing for a  _very_  long time. And it was  _good_. He found himself rather amused when Sallie released his steering-wheel just to play the air-guitar in her black leather seat, and TORQUE took the liberty of taking control, not that floating in Space would be such a problem. It made him happy to see her like this again. After so many years of suffering and battles, witnessing horrors no human should be exposed to and battling with her own desires, including the personification of the Seven Deadly Sins as Rick, many would be foolish to assume she was just a simple human. Within that crazy mind of hers, she had suffered far more tragedies than the average human. He sometimes ponders if she ever regrets her decision twenty years ago.

My, how she had grown from the 27-year-old woman he first met…

Sallie’s armoured boots tapped on the foot-wells to the music, strumming aggressively to her invisible guitar along with the guitar solo, and for once, there was not a care in the world. It was refreshing.

TORQUE felt himself being disheartened when the song had finished, and while Sallie calmed down and continued piloting the Harbinger through Space, the twinkle he just got a glimmer of had faded, and the spark was gone. It reminded him of what Wrath Rick had told her, and with that in mind, Sallie sighed deeply, the colours draining from her pale face, and her pulse slowed.

She looked defeated.

 **++Are you alright, Sallie?++**  TORQUE spoke at last when he could no longer bear her silence. Sallie looked up at the Voice-Modulator above her steering-wheel, seeing the animated Mustang staring back at her sternly.

Those simple words convinced Sallie enough to talk.

“I don’t know…”

The incoming track, a  _SlipKnoT_  song, quit obligingly. TORQUE felt Sallie’s hands loosen around his steering-wheel, and they dropped to her lap, and the Harbinger easily took control of piloting himself.

**++Torque to me++**

His human companion gave him a small smile, slightly amused by their inside-joke. Eventually she replied, her British accent clashing with the American muscle-car.

“R-Remember when I mentioned about Mr. Needful being defeated, and that Wrath Rick…” She paused. “Wrath Rick said something to me before he died, and I’ve been troubled about it for a while,”

**++Eight days, to be exact++**

Sallie nodded.

“He said…something along the lines of ‘I will find you. Meet me in the Citadel of Ricks’…” No reply. “What does that mean? I’ve never heard of such a place,”

The animated Mustang kept his eyes off her.

Nothing was said for a while, and Sallie was surprised. Normally, the Harbinger would have piped up a suggestion, or a well-documented essay about anything he was familiar with. After a moment, Sallie spoke up again: “TORQUE?”

He looked up.

**++Yes, Sallie?++**

“You went quiet,”

**++I am aware of that++**

Ah, he was doing it again. Being indifferent. Which could only mean-

“You know something, don’t you?”

**++I was familiar with the term ‘Citadel of Ricks’, but I did not believe it was a real thing++**

“Could you research or…find anything about it? It could be a clue,”

**++I recalled Rick mentioning it to me. But I cannot be sure if he was derisive or not++**

Sallie emitted a small mew of agitation. Best friends for twelve years, and that bastard was  _still_  an enigma…

“Take a gander at your data-banks or something. There  _has_  to be a clue.” She snapped her fingers in a eureka moment. “Maybe Rick is residing in there!”

TORQUE cocked a brow.

**++If it exists, that is++**

“Well, google it!” Sallie patted his dashboard, and the animated Mustang glare onto her. He began to feel hope coming back to her, and TORQUE couldn’t help but worry in case it would be another dead-end. “And if we find any other Ricks around, we’ll ask them. I’m sure there’s a  _nice_  one somewhere,”

*

Two hours had passed.

Now reclined back in her driver’s seat, Sallie folded her arms over her eyes, frowning. The music had stopped entirely, the numbness of space pressing against her ears. Taking a long deep breath, Sallie murmured in a low, frustrated voice:

“Any luck?”

 **++I’m afraid not, Sallie++**  TORQUE replied, just as frustrated.  **++The only results I am gathering is a Space-Book page of a Rick Sanchez, from Dimension 92-EGT, bragging about his home being a ‘Citadel’, which I may inform you is just a shack in the desert of a dying planet++**

“And the others?”

**++It’s apparently a ‘Meme’, also++**

Groaning in fury, Sallie threw herself forward onto the steering-wheel.

“If you can’t find anything helpful, I don’t think it even exists!”

TORQUE’s scanners bleeped, a notification, and lazily, Sallie looked up. “Hmm?”

**++You wanted a pit-stop?++**

Sallie glared at the windshield, and beyond them, at a distance, was a small round planet, just big enough for a small diner and a parking lot. The thought of coffee, thick and possibly burnt, made Sallie’s mouth wet. She was dying for one.

With a simple nod, the Harbinger took a sharp dive towards the tiny planet. TORQUE’s wheels, which had been turned 90-degrees flat to levitate, slowly reverting back to its original position, and the muscle-car squatted on its four thick tyres, parking like a normal car. Opening the door, Sallie got out, adjusting her long, tattered trench-coat and scratched a dull stain on her dark, denim jeans.

“Stay sharp, TORQUE,” She ordered nonchalantly, closing the door and made her way towards the diner.

 **++You know where I am if you need me++**  TORQUE piped up, his sensors scanning the planet in case of any hostile creatures and found none. He was confident though. Sallie had the Communication-Link, or ComLink, with her. A small device that replicated like a thick, old black watch around her left wrist, which could measure her pulse and track her. It was created by her Rick and had multiple functions such as a voice-recorder, a walkie-talkie, and a lie-detector. And during the years she had travelled alone, she had continually been adapting the ComLink, including adding her favourite feature: Her battle-suit, the TORQ.

The Harbinger watched as his human entered the diner.

Sallie had to pause to blink out the pungent stench of bleach out of her eyes, a thin fog of the chemical making them sting. She wasn’t surprised. The diner was an old wreak, and no amount of bleach could ever improve it. Even the aroma of typical food was overpowered by the scent of it. She was surprised how lively it was, considering the state of it. The old leathery chairs had faded over time, now becoming a subtle pinkish-red, the hems torn, and the material shabby. It still possessed the ugly black and white tiles on the floor, which should have been replaced  _years_  ago, and what was more disheartening was that it had permanent stains that she did not dare ponder about. Pictures from magazines, cut-outs of unknown celebrities were plastered all over the wall, their faces full of false smiles, creatures Sallie cared very little about.

The diner was a discord of chatter, cutlery and 1950’s music, some tables a secluded huddle of beings raising their voices to be head about the dull music.

She decided to ignore the state of the Diner. She was no Gordon Ramsey. She just wanted a coffee.

Sallie approached the bar, waiting to be served. Leaning on the counter, she watched a large woman flipping burgers over the grill, scratching her sweating armpits before snatching a handful of salad and throwing them onto the plates. The idea of coffee was important to her, but a slight reluctance came to her from witnessing that act. Eventually, the waitress turned, her face large and squished together, tiny eyes squinted through the rolls of fat, her tattooed eyebrows cocked to see a human being.

“What ‘cha want, sweetheart?” She snorted, rubbing her nose with a greasy finger.

“One coffee to take out, please. Black with one sugar,”

The waitress snorted again.

“The hell do you think I am? Your slave?”

Sallie opened her mouth but stopped the snarky comeback just in time. Instead, she decided to leave it. Despite her rude comment, the waitress turned to the coffee-machine and stamped her finger onto the broken button, which finally responded. Sallie watched her carefully, making a mental reminder of where her fingers had touched on the take-out mug. She’ll have to find a straw…

Once gathering her coffee, Sallie turned to leave, but her attention suddenly snapped alert. She looked sharply to see the familiar tall, gangly human, blue-grey haired, that dirty cackle of a laugh emitting from him as he exhaled smoke from his cigar. The human wasn’t wearing the typical white lab-coat she was ready for. Instead, he wore a black turtle-neck shirt, two thick golden chains hung around his neck. She recognised his skin-color and voice, though she was trying to register the fact that, instead of his typical quills, his hair was pulled back into a smooth pony-tail, his left ear pierced with a simple looped earring. He wore matching black pants, held by a simple, black belt, complimented with glistening formal shoes. Sipping on her burnt coffee, she eyed up the thick cigar that rested comfortably between his fingers as he watched some alien sports-show on a skewed TV screen above him.

It was certainly a Rick, no doubt about that.

Sallie lifted her wrist to her mouth, holding the ComLink close to her.

“TORQUE, there’s a Rick here,”

 **++I see him++**  The Rick howled with laughter again, choking on the thick plumes of smoke and continued to intake another drag from it.  **++Be careful, you don’t know what kind of Rick he is++**

A small challenged smirk came to her face.

“I’m gonna talk to him,”

Taking a long gulp from her coffee, Sallie approached the Rick, standing beside him for a time and waited until he stopped howling at the poor creatures literally dying on the race-track. “Excuse me, Mr. Sanchez?”

The Rick faced the source of the voice, a little confused by the soft accent, only to realise it was a woman, and his eyes widened in shock. He blabbered something frantically and scrambled to his feet, standing to attention before Sallie and quickly flashed a winning smile at her.

“Why hello, beautiful,” He purred, noticing the fat cigar still smoking between his fingers and he tossed it carelessly into a cold cup of coffee that had been sat on the table for several hours.

Sallie stared at the Rick, unimpressed. Regardless, she spoke slickly.

“Hello, Mr. Sanchez. My name is Sa-”

“I know who you are,” The Smooth Rick said, eyeing her up and down, drinking in her features. “I haven’t seen a Sallie in  _years_. You ladies are rare now, huh?” He was already getting uncomfortably close.

“Uh-Huh…Anyway, I was wondering if you could help me,”

“Of course,” The Rick beamed, and Sallie finally noticed how he hardly stutters. Smooth-Spoken. If his attire and hairstyle didn’t say that otherwise, his words certainly would. “How did you get here, anyway?” He ran his fingers down her arm. “You shouldn’t be here, alone,”

Sallie sharply pulled away from him.

“I’ve been on the Sky-Roads for the past twenty-odd years. Don’t act as if I can’t protect myself,” She hissed, and Smooth Rick smirked at the bite of her voice.

“Oh-ho-ho! Gotta feisty one, here! How did you get around, huh?” He began to look frantically at the parking lot, seeing the small array of space-vehicles parked outside,

“By my Super-Car, whatever. Look, the Citadel of Ricks. Does it-”

“Ohhh, shit! Is that yours?” Smooth Rick was pressed against the window, his finger pointing at the beastly muscle-car that sat outside, staring back at him.

Sallie replied tiredly.

“Yes,” She shook her head. “Listen, that’s not the point!”

Smooth Rick suddenly turned.

“I’ll buy her off you!”

Sallie blinked, taking in what he said for a time, and then tutted.

“Don’t be stupid.  _He’s_  not for sale,”

“I’ve got some pretty big bucks. It’ll set you for  _life_!” He paused for a time, watching her closely. “I mean, you  _could_  live with me. You’d be treated like a Princess!”

“I don’t want that, thank you. I want answers,”

Smooth Rick folded his arms, cocking his monobrow.

“Answers for what? For a mundane mission or something?”

It was at this point Sallie was beginning to get evidently irritated. Gritting her teeth, she tried to contain her frustration.

“The Citadel of Ricks. Where is it?”

Smooth Rick blanched when she mentioned the Citadel, then cleared his throat and composed himself.

“It doesn’t exist,”

“Your reaction told me otherwise,”

Smooth Rick became aloof, looking away from the woman while hugging his chest. Sallie’s eyes muscle tightened, and she reached for Smooth Rick’s turtleneck shirt, yanking him down to her height and drew him close to her. “You fucking better tell me what you know or this little ‘Princess’ is gonna destroy everything you have, including that pretty face of yours,”

Smooth Rick stammered then, recognising that tone of voice. She was serious.

“I-I’m afraid I cannot disclose such information,”

“So it  _does_  exist?”

“Well…”

“I’m looking for a Rick.  _My_  Rick, KR-982. I have a feeling he’s at the Citadel, so it is  _very vital_  that you tell me exactly  _where_  it is.”

A nervous chuckle escaped the man.

“I-If I were to tell you, you’d still cannot find it. And even if you did, you’d die in an instant. No one is allowed in the Citadel except Ricks and Mortys,”

Knowing that he wouldn’t tell her anymore, or anything useful, she roughly pushed him away from her, making the Rick stagger backwards and collapsing onto the sofa he was sitting on, his long legs hanging over the arm of the sofa. He stared at up at the dark woman glaring down at him, regarding him as scum.

“I’ll find it,”

And with that, she turned and left the Diner.

Smooth Rick pulled himself back onto his feet, watching the woman go, watching a rarity of a woman leave him. No. He can’t let her leave. He needs her. And no woman will deny his advances like that. He was  _ashamed_.

A frown darkened on his features.

*

The moment Sallie was close enough to TORQUE, she heard the Mustang perk up.

 **++Beautifully executed, Sallie++**  That was sarcasm.

“Yeah, well, if he just gave me the answers I wanted, he wouldn’t have stained his stylish pants.” Sallie rested beside the Mustang’s chassis, exhaling a deep sigh before taking another long gulp of her coffee, and pulled a face at the bitterness of it. “But…at least I know it exists now…”

**++It’s just to figure out where…++**

“I can take you there,”

Sallie looked up to the source of the voice, not surprised to see Smooth Rick, who had followed her out of the Diner. He didn’t look hesitate anymore. More willing than anything, even after their little argument. Doubtfully, Sallie tilted her head, unconvinced.

“I thought you said that only Ricks and Mortys can enter the Citadel,”

“That is true. But who says you can’t come into the Citadel  _being_  my Morty?”

Sallie gave him a look that clearly said:  _Are you fucking stupid?_  Even the animated Mustang inside mirrored it.

“That isn’t going to work, stupid. I’m clearly not a Morty,”

“I can disguise you as one. Remember, we Ricks are inventors. We have many tricks up our sleeves,” He began to approach Sallie and TORQUE, his expression keen and eager. Sallie shot a warning finger at him.

“Don’t get close. My Mustang is on ‘kill-mode’,”

**++She’s not lying++**

Smooth Rick’s face whitened again, suddenly gawking at the Harbinger.

“It can  _talk?!_ ”

**++Yes, I can talk. I have Artificial Intelligence thanks to my creator, Rick Sanchez KR-982. Now, if you don’t mind, could you please tell us the location of the Citadel of Ricks++**

“I can’t just  _tell_  you. That would go against the Rick-Code,”

“Yeah, well, bringing us to the Citadel while pretending to be a Morty is also breaking your ‘Bro-Code’, I’d imagined,” Sallie shot back.

Smooth Rick slowly turned to Sallie, and she can see the subtle flames in his eyes. He was getting pissed. Something she was familiar with.

“Listen, you little shit, if you want in on the Citadel, I can take you there,”

“But…?”

“But you will have to be my Morty,”

“Can’t you just fucking tell us the coordinates? We can get there fine!”

“No, you can’t! You can’t just  _waltz_  into the Citadel like that,” He snapped his fingers as a demonstration. “They’ll kill you on the spot!”

Sallie swung her arms in a dramatic fashion towards TORQUE, displaying him as her answer.

“I have a Super-Car!”

“Yeah, okay, against an infinite army of Ricks…”

“Hey, you don’t fucking  _know_  me! You don’t know what I’ve been through or what I am capable of, and believe me, I’m no pussy like a lot of the Sallies.”

“But I know you seek a Rick,” The comment stung Sallie for some reason. Smooth Rick stroked his hair back, now smirking charmingly to see her affected by his word. “Y’know, saves you the hassle, I’ll be your Rick. We’re virtually the same,”

“My Rick wasn’t a pompous prick,” She waved her hand carelessly at the Rick, getting inside of the Harbinger. “Good bye,” And before she gave Smooth Rick the chance to reply, she slammed the door shut, and TORQUE locked up, making sure she was safe. From the windshield, she could see Smooth Rick looked at her in distaste.

**++What’s the obsession of having a Sallie with some Ricks?++**

Sallie shrugged, turning his ignition on.

“Beats me. We’re stupid twats,”

Her heart leapt to her throat when she saw Smooth Rick approach her window and began to bash his fists aggressively against the window pane. Thankfully, it was reinforced.

“Sallie, get your ass out of there right now!” He was furious, his smooth-nature now gone. What a joke…

His only reply was a blank stare.

“How many times have I heard that before?” Sallie murmured, watching the Rick hysterically batter the window, causing no damage.

**++Too many++**

Smooth Rick realised that she was not going to obey him, and so he took a step away from the vehicle, and fished something out of his pocket, and held what appeared to be some sort of gun at TORQUE, his expression vividly changed from fury to near-insanity. Sallie snorted.

“Bullet-Proof windows, bitch,”

But TORQUE was concerned.

**++Sallie, that isn’t any ordinary gun…++**

Before Sallie could get a reply, Smooth Rick fired. What Sallie had expected was some sort of bullet, which would have failed to penetrate through TORQUE’s chassis, bounced back, and possibly kill someone in the diner. What she didn’t expect was a lightning-blue orb to be fired, and the instant it touched TORQUE’s chassis, it engulfed the Mustang in an eerie azure, throbbing and humming all around her.

Anxiously, Sallie watched the results, seeing the dials and figures on TORQUE’s dashboard flicker madly, the meters and dials fluctuating in places they should not be in, with the occasional static charge spark from the hood and doors, leaping around the circuit board beneath the dashboard, and it wavered around Sallie, sparks of exhausted electronics flashing around her.

“TORQUE, what’s  _happening?!_ ”

 **++I-I believe it’s-a-a-++**  Static.  **++-Electrobyte weapon++**  More static.  **++-excessive charges of electricity-to-to++** TORQUE’s voice was breaking up, corrupted and tangled beneath the blurs of static. Sallie watched as the animated Mustang visibly struggled to fight against the waves of the electronic barrage, but it was relentless and continuously amplified more.

Smooth Rick watched in glee as the Mustang was clearly overwhelmed. Soon, the AI will collapses, and he will effortlessly open the doors to retrieve his new Sallie.

“TORQUE?! TORQUE, are you there?!”

No answer, and her heart sank. He was gone, unresponsive.

The compartment began to blink an intense red now, a warning siren assaulted all around her ears, and to the monitors, she saw that the warning was unfamiliar, yet one she dreaded:

**DARK MATTER TANK**

**STATUS: DAMAGED**

_Shit! If that is the case, TORQUE cannot fly!_

“TORQUE! Stay with me!” Sallie furiously flicked at switches, patting and then slamming her hands on the dashboard, seeing the lights blink out of existence. None of them were responding to her frantic button-mashing, and it terrified her more. No good, TORQUE was not responding, his Voice-Modulator screen now black. Her Harbinger shuddered beneath her feet, the engine seizing and choked, the machine’s A.I fallen into a mechanical catalepsy, leaving his human unprotected.

The Rick waited until the blue aura died down, waiting until he was certain it was safe to approach the machine.

“Come now, Sallie. I’m certain he is okay. Just a little knocked out, that’s all,”

Sallie didn’t hear him. She was too busy trying to stop the surges from hurting her friend but found herself shocked upon touching some of the switches, and flinched back, burnt.

The monitors were blinking desperately now, and she turned to see that one monitor informed her of the Dark Matter Tank’s condition, and the other one was responding back. Despite TORQUE’s condition, his AI was still fighting for her protection. Sallie blinked to see a message she had not seen before on the second monitor.

**EMERGENCY TELEPORT: “SAFE HAVEN”**

**ENGAGE**

TORQUE has never teleported before. He wasn’t like Rick’s Portal Gun…so how could-?!

Her panicked musing was interrupted when the Mustang began to rumble, and gradually, she witnessed the fading blue aura smoothly being overlapped with what appeared to be a sickly-green layer of…something. She recognised it though.

Rick’s Portal Gun came to mind.

“Wait….”

Smooth Rick’s triumph smile faltered swiftly when he saw the Mustang rapidly immersed itself in a familiar jade cloak, and he mirrored Sallie’s perplexed expression. She had no idea what was happening, but something told her that TORQUE was aware of this and had saved it for such a situation. Or, at least she thought.

A violent spark from the dashboard thundered against Sallie, throwing her back into her seat with such a force it knocked the wind out of her lungs. The smell of blood and singed hair came to her nose soon after.

The green aura was getting more intense, and Sallie could feel her consciousness fading from the impact of the struggling dashboard and the heat. Slumped in her seat, she locked eyes with Smooth Rick, who stood before her, his mouth hung open as he stared at the machine. What kind of Rick made  _this?!_

The horror escaped from Sallie’s face, and was replaced with a bold smirk, and Smooth Rick watched her slowly lift her hand up, and held a struggling middle finger to him for a few seconds before slumping back into her seat, finally unconscious. Then, the whole chassis of the Mustang vanished before his eyes, disappearing with a satisfying little  _pop!_.

And they were gone.


End file.
